


He Thinks You're a Hero

by elizaye



Series: Fifty Follower Fics [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Demonic Possession, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:11:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaye/pseuds/elizaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean should've taken Cas to get an anti-possession tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Thinks You're a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> For my 200th follower, [sgtspill](http://sgtspill.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Prompt: _Okay, well, how abouttttt, a Destiel fic where newly-human Cas gets possessed, and the demon kind of starts to tell all of Castiel’s secrets like being secretly in love with Dean, and then the oh-so-awkward (and totally adorable) aftermath? I don’t do well with prompts, but Demon!cas, awkward moments, and Destiel fluff are my favorite things ever, so will that work?_
> 
> This ended up pornier than I originally expected, but anyway. (Also, this was written before S9, so it's only canon-compliant through 8x23.)

It’s been a few weeks since Cas turned up on their doorstep, disheveled and rank and dog-tired, but Dean still can’t believe his eyes every time Cas ambles into the kitchen mid-morning, grumbling about coffee and looking generally pissed off with the world.

Cas has taken to being human surprisingly well, and Dean honestly doesn’t know what he’d expected—having to look after the guy and show him the ropes or something, maybe hold his hand a little?

But Cas got the coffee machine working on his own after fiddling with it for a few minutes. When some coffee spilled on his shirt and he realized he couldn’t just mojo it off, he’d adapted and gone to scrub the stain off before it could dry. (He’d also tugged his shirt off right on the spot, and Dean definitely had not feasted his eyes on Cas’s surprisingly muscular back as he walked away. Shut up.)

Point is, Cas is doing well, Dean thinks as he continues going through the routine news sites, looking for new cases.

"Mornin’."

Dean looks up as Sam walks into the kitchen, hair all over the freakin’ place. “Dude, if you don’t take care of that… thing on your head, I’m coming after you with shears. I’m not kidding.”

"Shut up," Sam says, going for the coffee machine. "Where’s Cas? Isn’t he usually up by now?"

The little digital clock on Dean’s laptop says that it’s 11am, which means that yeah, Cas usually  _is_  up by now. Dean shrugs, shoving the instinctual panic down because the last time he thought Cas was gone, he’d freaked the fuck out and looked all over the place for the guy, only to find him in the back of the library, nose buried in some dusty old book.

"Probably off reading again or something," he says.

Sam’s lips quirk upward, and he says, “Sure you don’t wanna go check?”

"Y’know what, bite me."

* * *

When Cas isn’t around for lunch, Sam suggests that maybe he went out for a run.

"Without telling us?" Dean says doubtfully, and despite his best efforts, he is definitely worried now.

"I don’t know, man," Sam says, looking up from his book with a frown. "Did you check with Kevin?"

"Yeah. He said he hadn’t seen Cas," Dean answers.

"You don’t need my permission to go looking for him, Dean. If you’re worried, just go."

"Yeah," Dean says. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Right," Sam replies, but he’s already turning his attention back to his book.

Dean leaves the room to grab his jacket and keys, and then he’s exiting the bunker and getting into the Impala. He’s only just gotten the car started when his phone rings. It’s an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Dean?"

It’s unmistakably Cas’s voice. “Where the hell are you?”

"I—I’m outside a warehouse. A worker found me inside, unconscious, and lent me his phone. It appears I’m in a city called Concordia."

Concordia? How the hell—

"Dean, I have no recollection of coming here," Cas continues, sounding nervous and maybe a little scared.

"Don’t worry. Have the guy text the address of the warehouse to me. I can be there in just under an hour, okay? You’re gonna be fine," Dean says.

"Please hurry."

"Yeah, I will. Just stay put."

He hangs up then, shifts gears, and steps on the gas.

* * *

About forty-five minutes later, Dean pulls up in front of an old-looking warehouse, crumbling around the edges, and he’s surprised that anyone would still be working there.

Cas is nowhere to be seen.

"Damn it," Dean mutters, checking to make sure his gun is loaded before getting out of the car.

He makes his way over to the entrance, looking all around him for any signs of movement. Nothing.

Well, he’s just gonna have to go in—no two ways about it. He pats his jacket to make sure his bottle of holy water is in place and draws his gun before reaching for the door handle.

When he pulls open the door, the first thing he sees is Cas’s face, an unfamiliar smile stretching his lips wide. “Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you.”

Dean is flying backwards before he can even lift his gun, and then everything goes black.

* * *

He comes to in an unfortunately familiar position: tied to a chair with his hands bound behind his back. The difference is that there’s a gag in his mouth—usually demons don’t bother with those. So maybe this is a lower-level grunt, one who doesn’t have the juice to make sure he doesn’t talk.

"Dean," he hears in Cas’s voice. "Boy, is it good to see you."

 _Get the fuck out of him_ , Dean wants to say, but the gag is doing a good job of keeping his words incomprehensible.

Cas—no, the demon—comes around to where Dean can see him, and he’s not smiling as wide this time. “Sorry about the gag,” he says, stepping closer and running a finger along Dean’s cheek, just above the cloth.

Dean jerks his head away from the contact, but the demon only looks amused.

"Couldn’t have you rattling off an exorcism," he says. "Not with all the plans we have for you."

Plans?

Dean knows for a fact that Crowley isn’t a threat; he’s still on lockdown in the bunker, with no forms of communication to the outside world—Kevin made sure the blood-communication spell wouldn’t work with some handy dandy tablet info.

So if this demon has plans, someone new must be in control. Abaddon’s body may have been torched, but she had a chance to smoke out. She’s definitely out there…

The demon’s hand comes to Dean’s chin, tilting his head up, and when Dean tries to resist, it tightens its grip to hold him in place. Cas’s eyes flick to black, and Dean flinches despite himself, disgust roiling inside him at the wrongness of demon eyes on a fallen angel’s face.

"You know, he was so certain that you would save him," the demon brags. "He thinks you’re a hero. He  _worships_  you, Dean. Did you know that?”

If Dean weren’t gagged, he’d be spitting right in the demon’s face.

"Oh, if you knew the things that this little angel would do for you, the things he would let you do to him. Ooh," the demon says, shivering a little, and Dean can’t even tell whether it’s real or not, but it looks so goddamn  _wrong_  that he wants to throw up. “But he doesn’t have the guts to tell you all about his thoughts, his  _feelings_ , the things that he thinks about when he touches himself at night.”

Dean shuts his eyes at that, because now all he can think of is Cas jerking himself off, and maybe his thoughts have strayed briefly in that direction before, but he always discarded them, because Cas was an angel and untouchable. But he’s human now, fuck.

Dean jerks when a hand touches his inner thigh, but his ankles are strapped to the chair legs, so he can’t move.

"He moans your name whenever he comes, y’know," the demon says, voice barely above a whisper but still perfectly audible in the otherwise silent warehouse. "He shoves his own fingers inside himself and wishes it was your cock."

The images sink into his mind, unstoppable, images of Cas in bed, sweaty and writhing on his fingers, and fuck, Dean’s turned on by it, can’t help it.

"Oh, you like that, don’t you?" the demon says, picking up on Dean’s arousal immediately. His hand slides farther up to palm Dean’s half-hard cock, and Dean’s hips buck against his will.

The demon’s other hand, the one that’s been under Dean’s chin, slides down his neck, trails down his cloth-covered chest to join the first. Dean curses mentally and wishes that he could banish a demon just by  _thinking_  an exorcism. The demon unsnaps the button of Dean’s jeans and starts pulling down the zipper, and fuck, what if he’s lying. What if Cas doesn’t want any of this? Shit, shit,  _shit_ —

And then the demon is pulling Dean’s cock out, and yeah it’s a demon, but those are Cas’s long fingers wrapped around him, pumping him once, twice, and Dean can’t hold back a groan.

"He’s enjoying this, y’know," the demon says, grinning lewdly. "He wants to taste you, wants to suck you down ‘til he’s gagging. Who knew an angel could be such a slut?"

Dean shifts in his bonds, trying in vain to free himself, but then his cock sinks into _warm_  and  _wet_ , and he looks down to see Cas’s dark blue eyes staring right back up at him, pupils blown with want as his mouth opens around Dean’s cock.

 _Fuck_.

Dean can’t stop himself from gasping as unwanted pleasure pulses through him with each bob of Cas’s head, and fuck, his body wants him to thrust up, wants him to take this willing hole, but he can’t. He  _can’t_.

Thankfully, the demon pulls off soon, licking his lips, but there’s a devious glint in his eye, and Dean renews his efforts to pull free of the ropes tying his hands behind his back—the knife he typically uses for cutting them in these kinds of situations has been removed.

Then the demon is removing Cas’s pants, and shit, he can _not_  be serious right now.

"He’s screaming at me to let him out, let him finish you off down his throat," the demon says as he takes Cas’s underwear off, and Dean wants him to shut the fuck up and go to hell. "But I think we can do a little better than that. What do you think, Dean? You want your precious angel to ride you nice and hard?"

Dean growls around the gag, willing the demon to just fucking stop already. It won’t do a damn thing, and he hates this, hates that he’s hard because of this goddamn demon. Fuck.

"Oh, I think you do," the demon says, straddling Dean’s legs and reaching down to stroke him. He lifts himself up, one hand on Dean’s shoulder for balance and the other on Dean’s dick to line himself up, and then he’s dropping down in one fluid motion.

Dean expects it to be dry, expects it to hurt, but god, it’s  _wet_ , and fuck, did the demon take the time to prep Cas first?

These are the only thoughts that manage to make it through Dean’s head before Cas—wait, not-Cas, demon-Cas—lifts himself up and fucks back down, fast and forceful.

"Oh, yeah. Oh,  _yeah_ , isn’t this so much better than just fingers, Cas? Won’t be able to go back, will you, y’little slut.”

The demon’s words make Dean feel worse even as he picks up the pace because despite it all, Dean can’t help the grunts of pleasure that escape past the gag each time Cas slams down. It’s just so goddamn  _good_ , Cas’s ass hot and slick and smooth around him, tighter than any hole he’s ever fucked.

Then a loud cry escapes the demon’s lips, and wait—shit, that’s Cas,  _actually_ Cas.

"D-Dean!" he gets out, dropping back into Dean’s lap and tensing up. His hands come up from Dean’s shoulders to his mouth, scrabbling at the fabric frantically.

"Cas!" Dean spits out as soon as Cas ungags him.

"Exorcise—I can’t—hold him—"

And fuck, it’s probably the hardest thing he’s ever done, reciting an exorcism while buried balls-deep in someone, but Dean manages it, and a flood of black smoke pours from Cas’s mouth, leaving behind a shaken but clearly still aroused fallen angel.

Cas slumps forward as soon as the demon is gone, but this causes him to shift around Dean’s cock, and his hips thrust upward reflexively, punching a light moan out of Cas.

"Shit—Cas, ‘m sorry."

"No, Dean, I should have been more careful," Cas murmurs into Dean’s neck, where he’s hiding his face.

"We should’ve gotten you tattooed first thing. Don’t know how we forgot," Dean says.

Cas remains in place for a moment, and then he starts backing away, lifting himself up off Dean, and Dean is ashamed of the noise of protest that breaks out of his throat. Cas stills, eyes laser-focused on Dean.

"Dean, I—"

"Cas, you don’t have to explain."

But Cas continues anyway, “—the demon may have exaggerated a few points, but he was not lying. I understand if this makes you feel uncomfortable, or if—”

Dean hates the uncertainty in Cas’s voice, so he does the only logical thing and tips his head forward to kiss him quiet. Cas’s hands come up to cup his face, and Dean wants to do the same, only his hands are still tied behind the chair. Distracted by the kiss, Cas sinks fully onto Dean again, and they break apart, groaning.

"I regret the circumstances that brought us here, but—"

"Cas, can we talk about this later?" Dean says, pointedly straining his arms against the ropes.

Cas just sighs and reaches around the chair to undo the ties. Dean’s hands instantly come up to Cas’s hips, molding around the shape of them perfectly, and yeah, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this before.

"Are you going to finish this, or shall I?" Cas asks, one eyebrow raised in challenge, and oh, it is  _on_.


End file.
